


been one of those days [safety first don't push]

by aeriamamaduck



Series: The Next Level of Life and Love [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Self-Harm, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort/Angst, Communication, Friendship, Gen, Insecure Yuri Plisetsky, Light Angst, Platonic Relationships, Rated for Yurio's potty mouth, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: Yuri's up in the air, and only Yuuri's there to catch him.





	been one of those days [safety first don't push]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlemomentsofgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemomentsofgold/gifts).



> I love these two.
> 
> EXTRA BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR LITTLEMOMENTSOFGOLD BECAUSE SHE'S A GOOD FRIEND

Yuuri dressed quickly, freshly showered and eager to unwind back at his and Victor’s apartment with a hot bath and a good meal. A quick cuddle with Makkachin and some kisses from Victor wouldn’t hurt either. 

He’d been shocked and honored when Madame Baranovskaya approached him at the rink one day and offered him lessons alongside Yurio. Lilia was intense. Yuuri was used to Minako’s intensity but it was of a different sort from the former prima ballerina. Lilia did not tolerate imperfection, but Yuuri knew that didn’t mean she didn’t have a heart. He was well-aware of how much she’d grown to care for Yurio as she watched him on the ice, and she urged him to be careful almost as much as Yakov did. And while the divorced couple did tend to snap at each other, Yuuri sensed no tension between them, at least none that they ever brought to the rink.

She’d given him a day to think about accepting his offer and, after Victor had waxed poetic about how lucky Yuuri was to have caught Lilia’s eye, he approached her the next day after practice and said he’d happily become her student. Unfortunately Yurio had been drinking water nearby and nearly choked when he heard.

Things were civil at the dance studio, at least. Yuuri worked hard, but Yurio was determined to work harder, a look of intense concentration stamped on his features with every step and leap. Lilia wasn’t the type to just hand out praise, snapping out instructions while keeping them in constant motion.

Yuuri was exhausted by the end of the first lesson, but it was a good kind of exhaustion, and he let himself feel a bit of pride in his flexibility and strength. He felt good, and he couldn’t wait to get home and show Victor just how good and accomplished he felt.

He went back to the studio to give it a quick glance, wanting to make sure everything was back in order before he and Yurio left. He spotted a light green hair tie near the bar and went to retrieve it, a few strands of fine blond hair sticking to it. _Yurio must’ve dropped it._

Yurio had finished his shower before Yuuri but was still in the middle of dressing when the older skater left the dressing room, keeping out of sight. Strangely enough it was almost as if Yurio were making an effort to keep quiet, because Yuuri barely heard a peep from him. He went back in, hair tie in his hand, and called, “Yurio, you dropped your—”

A sharp, painful-sounding inhale answered him, and Yuuri nearly dropped the hair tie in shock when he saw Yurio pressed close to one of the lockers, hair disheveled and one hand clutching the other as he gasped for breath and tears coursing their way down his cheeks. He turned his head sharply at the sound of Yuuri’s voice, and the wild, desperate look in his eyes turned to anger.

Yuuri, managing to ignore that anger, made his way to the teen and exclaimed, “Yurio! Are you okay? Should I call Madame Lilia—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, pig,” the boy spat out, green eyes still managing to be venomous even through a haze of desperation. “Just get out,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against the locker and shutting his eyes, tears still managing to drip down to the floor as he clenched his teeth with an audible click. “I don’t need you seeing me like this…”

Yuuri’s gaze flicked down to the boy’s hands, one tightly clutching the other, and managed to see blunt nails violently dig into pale flesh that quickly turned red. He felt as if his heart came to a complete stop before he thought to grab the teen’s wrist. “Yuri! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” he exclaimed, prying the boy’s fingers away from the back of his hand.

Yurio snarled through the tears in his eyes, “Let go! Stupid—” He tried pulling away but found himself stopped short by Yuuri’s strong grip. Yuuri would’ve been amused at how the boy was underestimating him yet again, but he didn’t feel like laughing when the kid was caught in the middle of an anxiety attack. The older man kept his eyes on the hands he held, on the crescent-shaped marks littering the skin beneath Yurio’s knuckles. Shallow cuts, but at least there wasn’t any blood.

“It’s okay. Come on, Yuri, breathe. You’re going to be okay,” he said, keeping his tone even as he stroked Yurio’s skin with his thumbs. “Let me help you.” 

“Fuck off,” Yurio hissed, embarrassment apparent through the fury in his eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you laugh at me—” 

Yuuri stared right into Yurio’s eyes and firmly said, “I’m not going to laugh at you, Yuri. Why would I laugh? You just beat some of the best skaters in the world in Barcelona. You’re a holy terror. An absolute hell-raiser.” He eased his grip on the boy’s rigid hands and asked in a softer tone, “Can I help you, Yuri?”

Yurio glared at him for a few more moments, tense and breathing uneven, and gave two terse nods as another sob made its way out his throat.

Letting go of one of Yurio’s hands, Yuuri moved to stand at his side. “Okay, I’m going to put my hand on your back.” He did so slowly, starting with the tips of his fingers to test out Yurio’s reaction. His hand settled on the shaking surface between the boy’s shoulder blades, and slowly moved up. “Breathe in,” he said, and waited until Yurio gulped a breath, crushing Yuuri’s hand in his. “Breathe out,” Yuuri said, moving his hand back to its original position as Yurio blew out a shuddered breath. “Good, keep that rhythm and unclench your hands.” He looked down at Yurio’s hands until he slowly uncurled them.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, Yuuri patient as the muscles beneath his hand lost their tension and Yurio’s breaths came a little deeper and more even. He swallowed and breathed, trying to get his own racing heart under control, and ventured in careful tones, “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Yurio shook his head and quickly wiped his face with his hand. “No,” he croaked out, swallowing and getting back to his breathing. Then he asked in a strained voice, “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

Yuuri smiled, thinking that at least answering him would give him something else to focus on. “My sister. I kept having anxiety attacks right before leaving for Detroit, and Mari was the only one who could calm me down. Well…besides my dog, that is.”

“What did you do after you got to Detroit?” Yurio asked, his voice sounding a little more relaxed.

Yuuri moved his hand in tiny circles over Yurio’s back, keeping his hold on the boy’s hand loose. “I’d try to distract myself by saying random lines from television shows and movies I’d watch for my English. I guess it worked. I’m a lot more fluent than Victor is,” he replied with a small laugh.

“What movies?”

“Stuff my friend Phichit would make me watch,” Yuuri said, the fond memory making the conversation sound effortless. “It was kind of awkward at first since we only had the English we learned in school, but we’d quote movies, shows, music we listened to…It got easier over time and it’s almost like there was never any awkwardness between us. He got me through some tough times too,” he said with a gentle stroke over the boy’s back. Yuuri listened closely to the sound of Yurio’s breathing, relieved that it seemed to have gotten back to normal. “Feeling better?”

Yurio nodded quietly and sniffled, face red but his eyes no longer angry. He just looked exhausted and embarrassed.

“Wanna sit down a bit, kid?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. You sound like J.J,” Yurio seethed as he let Yuuri lead him to the nearest bench. They sat down next to each other, Yurio hanging on to Yuuri’s hand as he looked at the floor.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yuuri said with a smile, willing to be patient while Yurio gathered his thoughts. He thought about himself at sixteen, good at skating and loving every moment of it, but nowhere near Yurio’s level. The boy had won GPF gold and still showed so much promise, but he was still a sixteen-year-old athlete, prone to the stress of his career and the uncertainty that came with a body that was beginning to change.

A few minutes passed before Yurio finally said in a small voice, “…Victor’s really coming back.”

“Yeah, he is,” Yuuri said, curious about the hint of fear in Yurio’s voice. Hadn’t the boy wanted to drag Victor back on the ice kicking and screaming?

Yurio sniffled, and Yuuri once again saw how vulnerable he was in that moment. “I’m glad that fucker’s getting back on the ice, but…I won gold.”

“You did. And you deserved it,” the older skater said, squeezing the boy’s hand.

“You’re goddamn right I did. Only now it’s different. Victor’s coming back and we both have something to prove,” Yurio said, a determined glint appearing in his green eyes. “I’m not going to watch him leave me behind again.”

Of course, it all went back to how Victor, in Yurio’s view, had thrown everything away to chase after some Japanese skater and suddenly decided to coach him. How Victor had forgotten his promise to the younger skater as his own love for skating began to fade, and every movement in public was robotic and every smile plastic. Yurio, for all his frequent insults, held Victor in high esteem, and watching him so determined to exceed expectations in his comeback must’ve seemed so daunting for Yurio, who was expected to do the same for as long as he could. Yuuri knew just how it felt to feel small when looking at Victor’s accomplishments, but he’d seen for himself how they had taken their toll on the man, his focus taking away from his own emotional health and interactions with the people around him.

He moved his hand to Yurio’s shoulder and gently urged him to turn and face him. “He’s not going to leave you behind. Not this time. Victor’s proud of you, Yuri.” It was true. As shocking as Yurio’s exhibition with Otabek had been Victor had clapped so enthusiastically, unable to stop smiling as surprise flooded his gaze. “You’re probably going to have a great career. Do you really think he’s going to miss the chance to cheer you on as obnoxiously loud as he can?”

Yurio didn’t answer, taking his sad gaze away from Yuuri’s and staring at his feet, thin and bruised from so many jumps. “I hate this,” he finally muttered, blinking away fresh tears. “I hate feeling like…no matter how much I kill myself training…”

“I know the feeling,” Yuuri said softly, tucking Yurio’s hair behind his ear. “But you’re not alone, Yuri. Victor and I, we were both in your shoes once. It’s never good to keep things like that bottled up inside for too long.” He couldn’t help a tiny smirk at the irony of hearing himself say that. “Hell, I guess I should take my own advice there,” he muttered as Yurio gave him a wry look. He went on, “You’ve got me. You’ve got Victor, Lilia, Yakov, and your grandpa. And your friend Otabek!”

He didn’t miss the small blush that colored Yurio’s cheeks at the mention of the Kazakh skater. “…I didn’t want to bug him with this shit…”

Of course he didn’t. Yurio could be both proud and insecure, and Yuuri knew how it felt to feel so terrified that his feelings would drive away the people he cared about that he kept his mouth shut. “I get it. I get it completely.”

They sat in silence, Yuuri’s hand settled on Yurio’s shoulder as the teen sniffled and wiped his tears away. He gave Yuuri’s foot a little kick and muttered, “You’re like the shittiest rival ever.”

Yuuri let out a burst of laughter at that. “I know. I know,” he said, giving the teen a smile. Yurio was right, after all, since Yuuri was sleeping with the competition. Then Yuuri had an idea. He asked Yurio, “Do you want to have dinner with me and Victor? You can spend the night too, if you want.” Yuuri hoped he’d accept, not wanting to leave Yurio alone with his thoughts after such a bad attack, and Victor would absolutely love to have him over.

Yurio narrowed his eyes and asked, “Is the geezer cooking?”

Laughing, Yuuri rose up in his fiancé’s defense. “It’s perfectly safe, edible, and delicious. How about it?”

The teen gave his face one last stubborn wipe with the sleeve of his shirt and replied, “Fine. We’re stopping at my place so I can get some clothes.”

“I’ll call ahead while you get your sneakers on. And Yurio?” He got up and thought about how to best phrase his advice, not wanting to make Yurio feel forced to do anything. “You should know that…you can talk to Victor about these feelings too.”

Yurio paused in the middle of pulling his sneakers on and rolled his eyes at Yuuri. “Talk to _that_ idiot? Very funny.”

“I’m serious,” Yuuri insisted, crouching back down to Yurio’s level and handing him the hair tie he’d dropped earlier. “Yeah, Victor doesn’t always know what to do when people cry in front of him, and he doesn’t always know what to say, but he’s getting better. Will you at least think about it, Yuri?”

Yurio looked at him, brow lightly furrowed in thought rather than annoyance as he took the hair tie back. Yuuri knew there was no easy fix to any of this, but he didn’t doubt that letting Victor and Yurio actively find common ground would be of some help. Finally the boy nodded and replied as he swiftly tied his hair back in a ponytail, “Okay. I’ll try.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: **aeriamamaduck**


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